


Revolution

by xipeek



Category: The Handmaid's Tale (TV)
Genre: F/F, post episode 3.03
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-28
Updated: 2019-06-28
Packaged: 2020-05-28 11:03:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19392805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xipeek/pseuds/xipeek
Summary: She’s comforting you again. It has never been any other way, she’s always the one who picks you up, dusts you off and helps you stand tall again.





	Revolution

**Author's Note:**

> First oneshot in way too many years, let's thank Serena and June for bringing the inspiration back and thanks again @doreah for beta-reading :) Enjoy !

She’s comforting you again. It has never been any other way, she’s always the one who picks you up, dusts you off and helps you stand tall again. When you had to abandon your baby—her baby—she took you in her arms and held you close. She’s the mother and yet she was the one soothing you down, stroking your hair gently and whispering into your ear, it’s okay. 

Now you’re standing in a stranger’s house—everywhere is a stranger’s house now that yours is gone—surrounded by another life, possibly an easier one, less painful. Surely almost any other life has to be less painful than what you’re feeling right now. You’re not even sure it is a feeling, not so much as a state you’re in. After all how are you supposed to feel anything now that your heart has been taken out? 

The room is dark and chilly and not at all to your taste. You can’t help but notice it, notice the dust on the shelves and the heavy smell, like a scented candle has been lit up for too long, so long that it starts to smell like something is burning, very faintly. Or maybe it’s just the smell of your own bed burning, sheets on fire and wood crackling under the heat that still lingers in your nose.

You have come seeking comfort, and June doesn’t shy away from it. She doesn’t shy away from much, this one. She’s earned her name, if not in your speech, at least in your mind. Anyway now that she isn’t yours anymore you’d rather call her June than with the name of another. She’s sitting on the couch before you, preaching the same speech she has for so long, the one you’ve remained deaf to until now. Until Nichole. 

Something in the way she looks at you makes you stand up, but the minute you’re up you forget why. Obeying to a will of their own, your legs stretch upwards and carry you towards her. 

You sit next to her red dress, your hands on either side of your thighs, your nails digging into the soft velvet fabric so hard it makes you cringe. It isn’t as soft as you’d like; it isn’t smooth and warm enough. It won’t let you forget that other sensation, the one you’ve tried to dismiss ever since she took you in her arms. Your hand over hers, buried in your tight bun that’s slowly coming apart. Your fingers had grazed her hand and you found more comfort in that small gesture than in any other place in the world.  
You see them now, her hands. Folded on her lap and clasped together in a mock prayer. There are silent tears down her cheek and you know you’re not the only one hurting. She’s so much stronger than you, and nicer than you’d like. She hides her weaknesses in your presence because she’s still scared you’re going to take advantage. 

You’re in power, one word and you could have her killed. 

She’s cautious, still wary, and puts her brave face on even though she’s crumbling down inside. It isn’t fair and the realisation only hits you now. She’s looking at you with her icy blue eyes and you’re determined to watch them melt, to see their tough cutting edge fall apart and let the pain underneath be freed like a torrent that’s been trapped underground for too long. When you take her hands into yours you can hear her small intake of air, a sharp breath, but she doesn’t move, eyes still locked with yours.  
There it is again, that comforting feeling conveyed by her warm and soft skin. You’re doing the holding this time but it still feels like she’s the one giving you strength.

“June.”

You don’t say anything else, you don’t need to. You’ve given her her liberty, her identity back. She doesn’t answer, just looks down at your intertwined hands. When she slowly glances back up, there’s a fire burning in her eyes and for once you understand why so many people have followed her, helped her, listened to her. 

A strange feeling rises up in your chest and it takes a few seconds before you recognize it, that feeling that’s been buried somewhere inside your heart for so long. It’s pride. There’s a pride to take for being on June’s side and you feel it because June feels it too. She’s looking at you as if she's seeing you for the first time and in a way, she is. But you don’t want to forget yourself and why you’re sitting here. There are still faint wet streams on her cheeks, glistening in the dim light of the setting sun. Acting of its own accord, your right hand lets go of hers and reaches for her left cheek to softly wipe away the tears.

“It’s okay.” You say, echoing her own words.

Your palm is cold against her warm skin and your hand lingers, not quite ready to let go. You let it slide up, reaching behind her ear with your fingers while your thumb is gently stroking the last remains of her tears away. She’s still looking at you but something is shifting and you almost avert your eyes, but you don’t want to look at your own hand on her cheek because if you do, you might take it away. So you keep your eyes on hers and your let yourself feel her magnetic attraction pull you towards her. 

She’s leaning into your touch and you know she’s not scared anymore. She looks peaceful at last, blinking ever so slowly, but you know deep down under the surface a storm is brewing, fed by a passion for justice that never quiets down. For now, the energy and the attention it usually fills her with are directed at you and suddenly you feel like it’s too much to bear. Instinct overtakes fear and instead of removing your hand, you use it to pull her towards you slightly more, your whole body shifting to face her. 

You meet no resistance and her body slides towards yours as if pushed by an invisible force, or maybe by the fact that she was expecting this, waiting for the slightest impulse on your part to give into it. June is still staring at you but your eyes are elsewhere, a few inches down her face, resting on her parted lips. 

When you lean further into her and close the gap between your two bodies, she still doesn’t look surprised. She’s the one who gives the final indication needed for your lips to touch, and again, you know she’s been waiting for this as long as you’ve been trying to push it back, far away from your consciousness. 

Her lips are full and tender, vibrant with the same fire that burns within her eyes. Closing your eyes at last, you let yourself get lost in the kiss. 

It tastes of revolution.


End file.
